Goodwill to All?
by jibber59
Summary: Are there going to be changes coming to Four Corners? OW story (obviously) with some adult language and the usual amount of angst.
1. Chapter 1

"You're quiet tonight – even for you." Vin sat down across the table from Chris, setting his hat onto the empty seat beside him. The saloon, and the town for that matter, had been fairly quiet all day, and the respite was appreciated.

"Not much worth talking about. Besides, Buck and JD have been kinda dominating the evening's discussions."

The duo in question had spent the last 30 minutes at the next table arguing the validity of assorted holiday traditions. JD thought the town needed more Christmas décor. The truth was, he was feeling the loss of his mother more acutely as the holiday grew closer and wanted any distractions he could come up with to try to make him feel more festive. Buck, not surprisingly, saw little point in 'tarting up" the town – with one exception.

"Now, you want to go putting up that mistletoe and I'll be more than happy to help you out with that. I think it should be in every doorway in town, and maybe hanging from the porches and street lanterns as well."

"Why don't you just hang some from your hat and make things easy for yourself?"

"Best idea you've had yet kid!"

Vin shook his head, laughing lightly at the pained look on JDs face as the young man was realizing the futility of his effort to sway Buck over to his cause. He turned his attention back to Chris.

"Sure that's all? You've been quiet for a couple of days."

"Relax Vin– I'm fine. Nothing more that a bit of holiday blues, but I don't plan to make anything of it. Sarah would be some pissed off if I used her and Adam as an excuse to get drunk at Christmas."

"Wallowing is never good for the soul." Josiah added his two cents worth as he and Nathan pulled up chairs to join them.

Not the least bit surprised to see the gang all gathering, Chris looked up. "Not wallowing, just taking time for a little bit of introspection."

Nathan arched an eyebrow, and Chris grinned. "What, you thought Ezra was the only one who knows the big words?"

"Speaking of Ezra," Vin thought it was time to divert the discussion, "has anyone seen him today?"

Buck turned away from JD, tired of the endless nattering about holly wreaths. "Saw him getting ready to head out on his patrol earlier this afternoon when I was brushing down Lady. Now, if you think Chris is being quiet, you should have been around Ez. I don't think he said ten words in the stables."

If ever there was a sign that things were off kilter in some way, it was Ezra Standish being subdued. Vin leaned back in his seat, running his hand over his face with a bit of concern. "That ain't like him."

"Probably just tired. He was at the tables till late again last night." Buck offered his explanation. "I could see him in here when I was on my way to – well to find some company."

Chris leaned forward, resting his arms on the table as his gaze went unconsciously over to Ezra's usual poker table. "He's been having a lot more late nights lately."

"Doesn't seem to be to happy with the outcomes though."

Chris raised an eyebrow to Josiah, clearly waiting for more information, and was obliged.

"He was commenting, in his usual caustic manner, about how slim the pickings are around here these days. I tried to tell him it was just because of the season but he was less than receptive to that reasoning."

After swallowing half of his beer, Buck nodded agreement. "Yeah, he was bitching about that with me a couple days back. Said there hadn't been a decent night at the tables for weeks now."

"Did you agree with him?"

"Couldn't really comment on it Vin. My nights have been otherwise occupied lately." Buck smirked.

Conversation ebbed for a moment as they all thought back to recent games, coming to the conclusion that Ezra was right. There hadn't been enough activity in town recently to put together anything remotely resembling a high stakes game. For the six men sitting in the saloon now, that wasn't a problem. Poker was a diversion to them. A way to, with luck, get a bit of extra beer money, but mostly a way to kill some time and enjoy time with friends.

For Ezra Standish, it was a way of life. It was what got him out of bed in the morning (or more accurately most days, in the early afternoon). What kept him in the fancy clothes he preferred and living the lifestyle to which he had become so comfortably accustomed. And it was the one remaining legal outlet he had to getting that kind of money without actually having to work for it. The dollar a day he, and the others, earned for keeping the peace in Four Corners was nowhere near sufficient for Ezra's needs. Which brought an unsettling question to mind – one that dawned on each of them as they sat nursing their beers.

"He ain't gonna stick around much longer – is he?" Buck voiced it first, earning him a swift kick under the table from JD.

"Don't talk like that Buck. Ezra wouldn't walk out on us all just to find a better game."

"Kid, there was a point Ezra would have sold his soul to find a better game." Buck rubbed his foot again the shin that had been assaulted, glaring at the kicker.

Nathan offered a chuckle with no real humour behind it. "Wasn't that long ago either. And I would have been willing to bet myself that he made that deal with the devil."

"But," Vin spoke up, "we are talking the past. Ezra has moved past all of that." His voice didn't have quite the conviction it should have. Truth of the matter was, he didn't really doubt that the gambler would be willing to move on if the incentive was there. Nothing existed in town to hold him here. Certainly few of the residents had made much effort to accept him, questioning his morals and history. Yes, he had made friends, of a sort, with his fellow lawmen, but there was no strong bond of brotherhood for him, unlike the rest of them. Looking around the table, he could instantly pair each man with another. Brothers by choice rather than blood, making the bond that much stronger in his eyes.

JD and Buck squabbled most of the time, just like siblings should. But the moment trouble dared to show itself, they had each other's backs and God help whoever tried to get between them. The same could be said for Josiah and Nathan. Temperament linked them to each other, neither man fully suited to the violence and randomness of the frontier, yet each finding their role in it. He could find the same kind of connection himself with Chris. Loners who, while never admitting it aloud, needed to find someone who understood that side of them. The others shook their heads, not fully understanding how the two men communicated so well with each other when neither seemed to even speak.

But as far as Vin could see, Ezra remained the odd man out. He had relationships with each man, but none that held up to close scrutiny. Josiah tried to bring him into the fold, looking to help him find the moral fibre that the big man was convinced was hidden somewhere under the expensively tailored clothes. With Buck there was a light bantering, an occasional conspiracy of foolishness, but no sense of togetherness. There were times that they each seemed to merely tolerate each other, with neither seeming to be able to understand the workings of the other's mind.

Of course, they weren't nearly as far apart as Ezra and Nathan were, and Vin suspected always would be. From the first meeting when Ezra had stated his reluctance to ride with Nathan and on through countless condemnations by the healer of Ezra's principles, or lack of same, the two men were magnets that simply could not be brought together. They had both proven they would stand together in any battle, but friendship appeared to be blocked by a barrier not to be overcome.

On the other side of the spectrum was JD. Anxious to be friends with everyone, the young man harboured a small, and not so well hidden, amount of awed hero worship. While not fully embracing the reformed conman's outlook he did have infinite fascination with the tales Ezra would spin of his past escapades. And although few things pleased him as much as being able to entrance anyone with stories about himself, Ezra didn't seem to look on JD as a friend. More like a puppy dog that followed him around and eventually became just a tad more trouble than he wanted to deal with.

His own relationship with Ezra could have been better as well. Vin could see in him the same trait shared with Chris – the status of loner. He often wondered whether that was really the correct term in this case. Outsider seemed more appropriate. And while Vin's feelings came from a long history of fending for himself, and Chris's from a deep sense of loss, Ezra's had a different foundation. One that was in many ways harder to move past. Ezra had no real trust in anyone, including himself. There was a cynicism in his solitude that had been part of him for most, if not all of his life. Vin hadn't really understood that until he'd met Maude Standish. The missing pieces fell into place after that. He knew he should have tried harder to get through to Ezra but was always left with the sense that he wasn't invited to do so, and any effort would be rebuffed.

And then there was the relationship with Chris. That defied all definition. From the first meeting, when the dishonesty that was a fundamental part of his character was obvious, up to the moment Ezra rode out on them all, it was clear to anyone who looked that Chris did not trust Ezra. Coming back and helping to rescue them had helped – ever so slightly. But the core issue remained. And as long as the unofficially recognized leader of their band of lawmen didn't trust Ezra, none of the others could honestly say they did either. There remained too much of the rogue, the reprobate, for that to happen.

Debate had started up again and Vin dragged himself back to the conversation. It struck him that, in light of what he'd just been thinking, these men seemed more concerned about losing their seventh member that might be expected. Chris finally held up a hand to silence the rabble.

"Look, we can guess on this for the rest of the day, or just wait for him to get back from his rounds and I'll ask him."

"You'll ask him? You don't think there is a chance he might take things the wrong way if you just come out with 'When are you leaving Standish?' or something equally tactful?"

"I can be tactful Buck. Just never saw the need for it with you."

He ignored the gesture that served as a response.

"Buck has a point Chris." Josiah quickly spoke to keep them on topic. "Not the tact so much, as the idea that Ezra might see it as a confrontation. Maybe I should ask him."

"From anybody else he'll see it as us sticking our noses into his business."

"And he'd be right" JD muttered. Again, Chris ignored the interruption.

"Any way we ask, he's likely to take it wrong. So I might as well be the one to do it, since he already figures I try to control him too much as it is. Till then, let's just drop this and get on with business, shall we."

Chris pushed himself away from the table and headed out. He really didn't know where he was going but knew sticking around would just lead to more talk, and he was about talked out on the matter.

Standish drove him crazy, there were no two ways about it. The man seemed to revel into getting under his skin, aggravating him in ways never before dreamt of. And taking his life in his hands every time he did it. Maybe that was part of the problem. Chris was used to people being respecting him, or at the very least being intimidated, if not downright afraid, in his presence. Standish wasn't. Either that, or he was one hell of an actor. The only time he could recall seeing a genuinely fearful emotion at all was that moment when the warning was issued. "Don't ever run out on me again." The response he got from that was what he had come to expect from people he confronted. Looking back, he had to admit there was a small, almost miniscule amount of respect mixed into the threat. It had taken balls for Standish to turn around and come back after what he'd done. He stood up to the rebel soldiers without blinking and kept the same stoic stance when he faced Chris. Larabee still marveled at the fact Ezra had stayed around after that. More than just stayed. He'd worked at making this arrangement successful. From sweettalking his way out of a prison cell to jumping onto an armoured wagon with a firebomb in hand, Ezra had proven himself time and time again. So why was it that despite all of that, there was still something missing? Something that seemed to keep him separate from the group. Something that made it very easy for Chris to reach the conclusion that by the new year, their number would be down to 6.

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

It was more than the fatigue of the day that had Ezra riding slowly back into town. His mood matched the overcast evening sky. Cloudy and brooding, both of them.

It was late enough that a certain tranquility had settled in. The businesses, other than the saloons and of course Miss Sally's place, were closed for the night and the respectable townsfolk were home for the night. That left just the type Ezra was far more familiar with: the gamblers, drinkers and other assorted miscreants. And, of course, the men who tried to keep those sorts under some kind of control.

Given a choice he would have found a way to avoid contact with all of the above this evening, if such an accomplishment had been feasible. He could at least forestall any meetings by prolonging Chaucer's brushing down. While he had no doubt the horse would be grateful for the extra attention, and there was no denying he deserved it, he knew the action was no more than a delaying maneuver, and one that served to accomplish very little.

Dismounting smoothly at the livery he led Chaucer to his stall and began the nightly ritual of untacking. Foregoing his traditional habit of carrying on a one-sided conversation, he opted instead for continuing the quiet contemplations he'd undertaken on his patrol. The silence proved to be too unsettling for Chaucer, who spoke his mind by none to gently headbutting him as he tossed fresh hay into the stall.

"That sir is an action unbecoming of a gentleman. You were taught better manners than that. I should know." Ezra met the demanding stare for a moment, before conceding. "But I acknowledge, it was deserved. I have been a less than ideal companion for the day, haven't I?" He sighed, offering up a few peppermint treats by way of apology, which were immediately accepted.

"Rest assured you hold no culpability for my rather melancholy state. The blame is entirely at my feet, as I have a passionate aversion to uncertainty, and my current status if rife with it."

Taking small comfort in the nuzzling support he was getting, and ignoring the fact it likely was due in no small part to the remaining treats he held in his pocket, Ezra gave Chaucer's nose a fond pat and slipped on his poker face as he headed towards what passed for home these days.

He paused as he passed through the saloon doors. The place was about half full, but not a boisterous as it tended to get most nights. Looking around, he decided a large part of the comparative tranquility might well be credited to the sombre glare coming from the corner table. Just one person sat there, but the chill coming from him could be felt all the way across the room. It was no wonder none of the regulars wanted to be responsible for lighting the fuse on that dynamite. Ezra, never shy about playing with fire, made his way over to the spot.

"Good evening Mr. Larabee. You appear to be in fine form this evening."

Tilting his hat back in an unnecessary effort to make his glare more obvious, Chris leaned back in his seat, using his foot to push a chair out for Ezra. The gambler didn't take it.

"As much as I appreciated the generosity and warmth of your invitation, I have had a long day and would prefer to treat myself to a beverage and a bite of dinner before taking refuge in the comfort of my feather bed." He turned to leave but was denied the opportunity.

"Sit Standish."

"While I have on more than one occasion been called a son-of-a-bitch I am not a stray cur you can order around Mr. Larabee. I shall get my food and drink, and then will consider joining you as I partake of my repast."

Ezra walked away, searching his mind to determine what transgression, real or imagined, might have brought the wrath of Larabee down on his head. While his misdeeds were many, none sprang to mind as being worthy of the moment.

Knowing there was no real out for him, he went to the bar for a drink and requested a sandwich be brought to the table. It wasn't habit for food to be available here this late, but exceptions were made for some of the better customers. Given how much business Ezra brought in by hosting his poker games here, he was certainly qualified.

He returned to the seat with drinks in hand, placing the beer in front of Chris. It wasn't an effort to appease him in a way, just a simple gesture. Chris looked at it as if it might contain hemlock, or worse, but after a moment of consideration, picked it up and drank.

"Lot of conversation went on in here today Ezra. Mostly about you."

"Might I be allowed to know the nature of my crimes in order to prepare a defence, or has the verdict already been reached?"

"You always that defensive? Or is it you know you did something, and were just waiting to get caught?" Chris wasn't entirely certain of which answer he'd get. Or which he wanted.

"I have learned by vast experience it is generally in my best interest to assume I am suspected of something, given that is most often the case. It then becomes a matter of determining if there is anything to be gained by protesting my innocence, or whether the accusations, accurate or not, should simply be allowed to stand. More often than not it has been the motivation behind a hasty departure from whatever location I had briefly called home." Funny that he would have two such similar thoughts in such a short period of time.

Deciding that this may be a part of the conversation best left to a future time, assuming there would be time in the future, Chris let the matter drop. He took a slow swallow of his beer, waiting as Ezra's less than appetizing looking sandwich was being delivered. The same opinion of the food was evident on Ezra's face as he tentatively lifted the top slice of bread, seeking to ensure that the substance beneath was edible. Being unable to confirm that, he replaced the bread and shifted the plate off to the side. He didn't look up as he sipped at his own drink, knowing that he would be staring into the abyss of Chris's steel-eyed stare if he did.

The silence lingered. Ezra was fairly certain he could outlast anyone in such a contest, resolute though his challenger might be in this case. His life had depended on such a talent in the past, and even though he knew the stakes weren't literally that high tonight, he had a feeling that metaphorically, they just might be.

Chris was equally certain of his own ability to 'out-quiet' Ezra. He'd gone far longer that a few minutes without talking on several occasions. However in this case, there were outside factors that made him decide it was not the time for this particular pissing match to take place. Five men were waiting to hear the outcome of this chat, and he doubted they'd stay quietly at Josiah's church much longer.

"Is that what you're thinking on now Ezra? A hasty departure. It fits, since it seems a few of the men have come to the conclusion you might be thinking of moving on from here."

It wasn't often that Ezra had trouble hiding his reaction to a piece of news. He'd had far too much experience and far too many surprises thrown at him in his life to be taken aback by just about anything at this point. But the idea that any one member of their team had come to that conclusion was enough to give him pause. That several of them did was almost shocking to him. Had he let down his guard that far that this group could now read him? How could that have happened?

"What would have led to such a remarkable assumption?"

When Ezra denied something, it generally meant one thing: it was true. "Let's just say you seem less than satisfied with the way things are going around here. They – we – figure you might be ready to look for more lush pickings. Something more suitable to someone of your skills and tastes."

Avarice. Yes, that would be an acceptable motivation in their eyes, and one he could easily work with. "Well, I would be a fool to deny that Four Corners does leave something to be desired in terms of providing me with the lifestyle I was born to thrive in. And the lack of decent competition is decidedly detrimental to my efforts to perfect my card playing skills."

Chris allowed himself a grin at the observation. "Didn't think you'd admit to being less than perfect already on that score."

"Even the most gifted and talented of artisans must continue to hone their skills on a regular basis, lest some overly eager newcomer seek to overtake their claim to fame. Which is, no doubt, why you continue to refine your own drawing and shooting techniques."

Unable to deny it, Chris returned the conversation to the original subject. "Are they right? You planning on moving on?"

"Given that I never planned on being in Four Corners, let along staying here for as long as I have at this point, it is difficult for me to state with any certainty what plans I may be considering, and whether or not they have any likelihood of coming to fruition."

"Damn it Standish. Have you ever in your life ever once just answered yes or no to a simple question?"

"It might take me some time to recall the nature of every inquiry and response that has been addressed over such an extended period and therefore –"

"Shut up Ezra. Yes or no. Are you leaving?"

Ezra picked up the almost empty glass in front of him, wishing it could serve as a delaying tactic for more that just a few seconds.

From the tone of the question, Ezra could only conclude the men were more than idly curious. If he was reading this right, and he had few doubts on that score, they were concerned. The notion was beyond mind boggling. Dammit, that was not supposed to happen. He figured at some level it really was his own fault though. He'd been dealing with people at a distance for so long that he was simply not used to the idea anyone paid that much attention to him. He'd survived this long in a profession not known for retirement options, by being, in a wonderfully contradictory way, invisible. The more flamboyant someone was, the less likely anyone would assume they were up to something. Too obvious. And as a result, most people tended not to take the time to look past the flash.

Yet somehow, for some incomprehensible reason, this time he'd lowered his defenses enough to let these people through. He wasn't sure how he'd been careless enough to not just let it happen, but to fail to notice the change. And ironically, that suddenly made his decision so much easier.

His instinct was telling him, now screaming at him, that it was time to move on. In fact, apparently long past time to move on. He had become complacent, and that never ended well. Letting his guard down was an invitation to trouble. Not that he needed to invite trouble. It had a way of finding him, and he was fine with that. Living on the edge had been a way of life for so long the idea of not being in a state of readiness seemed beyond strange. The problem now was that he wasn't alone. There were others who would likely get caught up in whatever may come, and for reasons he could not begin to fathom, that idea was disturbing to him.

Simple logic dictated the decision should be simple and instantaneous. But something gnawed at him as he prepared to give his answer, and this was something he never foresaw; he didn't really want to leave. He liked this situation. He liked just about everything about it. Despite what they all thought, he didn't really like many aspects of the life he'd had before this. There was no denying he was good at it, and when a gambit worked the satisfaction couldn't be equalled. And if there was a more gratifying sensation than raking in large pot at the tables he had yet to discover it. But he wondered sometimes if that was really all he was good for.

Certainly if he heeded the words of his mother, and so many others from his past, this was his lot. He was a conman. A cheater, a player. A ne'er-do-well. Not going to be welcomed back in most of the towns he'd passed through and quickly running out of new ones to head to. Over the years it had been a reasonably profitable life, although he'd had those times when his gains had been abandoned in a hotel room or boarding house as he had been run out of town without the chance to recover a stash that had been safely squirreled away. It didn't take him too long to devise better hiding options. But there had been another kind of cost as well. With each game, each scam, he felt less and less pleased with the outcomes. While it was something he would never admit to anyone, and could only barely acknowledge to himself, he found the money simply for the sake of money was becoming less important. The satisfaction of winning was still there. His ego was definitely needy enough to want that moment of gloating over his victories, hazardous though such an act had proven to be. And he assuredly had no intention of walking away from the financial benefits of his skills. Especially since the money had become more than just the prize. Even before this stunning twist of fate that had him on the right side of the law, he had begun to crave something more permanent. Respectable wasn't necessarily key to the equation, but something that might allow him to set some kind of roots was definitely tempting him to abandon his first calling.

That thought terrified him. More than any gunfight or confrontation in his past, the concept of settling down in one place came damn close to bringing him to palpitations. He could almost feel the panic building in him now, and he came to the realization he had likely been staring at his drink for far too long. He looked up sharply and was surprised to see Chris didn't seem to be getting impatient.

"You going to keep staring at the glass looking for guidance, or are you going to answer me?"

"I am not trying to be coy with you Mr. Larabee. I will not deny having given the matter thought in recent days. Standish's are not known for taking up residency in any locale for extended periods. It has, in the past, proven to be somewhat detrimental to our health and wealth, not always in that order."

"And?"

Standing slowly, Ezra glanced at the bar, quickly debating with himself the merits of another drink before deciding he would be much better off escaping to the solitude of his room and making ample use of the flask that was stored there.

"And, I have no answer for you. I shall endeavour to provide a more satisfactory response within the next" he paused, calculating his plan and the timeline required "48 hours."

It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but Chris could find no reason to block Ezra's rather strategic escape. He did take the opportunity to make one final demand as Ezra began to climb the stairs.

"You give me your word you won't do anything without talking to me first?"

"I would not simply slip away in the night Mr. Larabee. I thought we had established that fact by now."

"You'd disappear in a heartbeat if you thought it was the best option. Not saying it would be like running out or abandoning us again, but it the motivation was there, you'd be gone. Don't bother denying it."

"In the event that time arrives, I can assure you that you will be informed." Chris arched an eyebrow and tilted his head which brought a wry smile to Ezra. Saying nothing more, he offered his customary two fingered salute before heading up to his room for the night tossing back a parting addition. "Upon my honour sir."

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

He got to his room and entered, quickly closing the door behind him. Drained, he leaned back against it, allowing his head to gently thud onto the wood panelling. It was time to disappear – wasn't it?

Vacillation of this sort was an anathema for him. Snap decisions and adherence to them had kept him alive too often in the past for him to be comfortable with any other course of action. Yet here he stood, questioning what he was certain was the only option left open. Why?

What was it about Four Corners that made it different? Certainly not the prospects here. Yes, the town was growing – slowly. But others were moving at a much faster, and by consequence, more profitable rate. Without effort he could name a half-dozen towns that were springing up to the west where he would still be able to earn himself a tidy sum, and without the risks of being a lawman factoring into the equation. Even riding the rails he'd be able to find better sources of income, so that plainly wasn't the draw that kept him here.

He couldn't say with any honesty that he had been warmly welcomed here. While a few of the locals had been willing to look past the less savory aspects of his character, the vast majority were less than thrilled that someone of his repute had been selected to keep the peace in the community.

His parting words downstairs made things a little more awkward, but only a little. After all, it hadn't been much of a promise, as honour was the one commodity Ezra would swear he did not possess. And it certainly wouldn't be the first promise he'd broken.

Leaving at Christmas? Well, that might piss them off. Maybe enough that they'd hate him just a little. That would make things easier. He already knew they might even be disappointed in him, assuming they'd had higher expectations. But then, disappointing people seemed to be one of his strengths. And strangely, on the rare occasions things had played out to allow him to demonstrate the more noble nature of his character, the result had been just greater disappointment in him when he reverted to what he saw as his true self. He'd just have to add this to the list of things he'd learned to live with. It was a long list.

He looked around the room, trying to determine what he could take with him when he left for patrol the next day. He'd have to leave most of this behind. Carrying a bag, even a bundle would eliminate any chance he had of a succeeding at his deception. He looked in the wardrobe. He could, he supposed, layer some clothing. It would serve the dual purpose of keeping him warm and allowing him to depart with much of his wardrobe intact. At least, the better pieces.

His weapons, obviously, would come with him. No one would think twice about that. He supposed he could slip down later and put a few things into his saddlebags tonight, when no one would see. Anything else that was important to him would fit into his pockets.

He paused as he realized the inaccuracy of the thought. The six men he would be leaving behind were important to him. Far more than they should be. Otherwise, he wouldn't be sitting here now, planning his surreptitious departure.

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

Chris stayed in his seat, unable to accept the idea all was fine. He'd learned over the last couple of months to read his team quite well. Buck was easy, since he'd known him longest, and since the man didn't have the least bit of guile in him. The original open book. JD was the same; too eager to even be able hide much of anything, assuming he would want to. Vin simply couldn't be bothered with playing games. Nathan was a straight shooter, with little tolerance for unnecessary muddying of the waters. Josiah could be a bit more impenetrable when the mood struck, but it wasn't generally to difficult to figure out where the big man was coming from.

But Ezra was cut from a different cloth. The man remained an enigma in many ways. He'd made a career out appearing to be far more, or if need be far less, than he was. Underestimating Standish was a mistake a smart man made only once. Whether at the card table or in a gun fight, opponents learned the hard way how truly skilled and efficient the man was, or they weren't around long enough to learn any lesson. But then there were moments, usually seen only on the rare occasions one too many drinks had been consumed, that the self doubting (and self loathing?) side of Ezra came out. It was a fleeting glimpse at best, but enough to make Chris wonder how many layers there really were there.

"He OK?" The voice startled Chris from his reverie. It was a bit unsettling that he hadn't heard the tracker arrive, but then Vin was almost as good a sneaking up on a body as he was himself.

"Don't know. Neither does he from the sound of things."

"Damn - that doesn't sound like him. Should we be worried?"

"Is he leaving?" Buck added as he approached the table. The others weren't far behind. Clearly they'd been closer by that Chris had thought.

There was a pause before answering, as Chris thought back over the conversation and the look he'd seen on Ezra's normally well shielded face when the vague promise was made.

"Oh yeah. He's leaving."

"Then stop him. He'll do what you tell him to." JD looked anxious. He was getting used to having some kind of family again and wasn't ready to see it start to disintegrate. He wasn't at all sure how to prevent that from happening, but he was damn sure someone needed to try.

Chris knew he was angry more at the situation and the way he felt about it than he was at the comment. "We may be a team," he snapped back, "but that doesn't mean we get to control each other."

"Really?" Buck responded. " – 'cause that's pretty much your specialty." Chris let out an exasperated sigh, but Buck continued. "You denying it?"

"No – not entirely. But that's not the point. It's not like I can order him to sit and stay like the family pet." Not that he hadn't tried, he remembered with a flash of guilt. "If Ezra wants – needs – to move on, then we have to accept that. If he's staying because we force him to, then we can't depend on him."

"You pretty much forced him when all this started, and I'd have to say he's proven himself since then, wouldn't you?" Josiah waited quietly for a response that wasn't coming. Nathan, however, had no problem with the question.

"I won't argue that he's good in a gunfight, but beyond that, I can't say that I have a lot of faith in the man."

No one was particularly surprised by the comment, but it was to their credit that a couple of them were bothered by it. JD was the first to react. "Can't say that I can recall a time he'd given you reason for that."

Nathan all but snorted at the comment. "He was running a con when we met him, and I can't help but wonder if he still is. Never seen anyone better at keeping his thoughts and feelings to himself."

"So, privacy is dishonesty in your book. Guess that makes you a suspicious of me as well." Vin leveled an unblinking gaze at him.

"Difference between privacy and hiding something. And Standish falls into the second group. There is more about his past that he wants us to know."

Even Buck took exception to that comment. "I'd be you could say that on each of us. I can guarantee you there are parts of my story you are never gonna hear."

Chris's reply was aimed more at what had Nathan bothered. "We all have things from the war we don't want to talk about. Both sides can lay claim to that shame."

"And before the war…?" Nathan doubted Chris would have a smooth answer for that, but he was wrong.

"I'd prefer to judge a man on what he does now than what he did before he knew better. And you gotta admit, Ezra's a good learner."

Vin smiled slightly. "When he wants to be."

Nathan remained silent. It was true, he had to admit to himself, that while Ezra had clearly not abandoned his all of his ways, he certainly had given the appearance of making at least a token effort at reforming – a little. Maybe he would have continued that if he'd been made to feel a bit more like a part of the town, and of the team. Too late now.

Nothing more was going to be gained from this discussion, and Chris was in no mood to sit through whatever debates may come next. He finished off the final mouthful of beer and stood, tired from a long day and even longer evening. "Best I can say is that he said he wouldn't leave without letting us know. On the other hand, that on it's own may have been his way of doing just that. He's headed on patrol mid-day, so that should give you some time to figure if you can, or should, try to change his mind."

There was a sort of hush at the table for the next few minutes as they each considered the remarks.

As would be expected, it was JD who broke the silence. "I don't think it's all about money. I get that's part of it, but I think there's more."

In a somewhat contemplative tone as Vin answered. "I'd say mostly 'cause he just isn't the type to stay put. When you think about it, none of us really are. Not exactly the sort that settle down and raise a family."

"But we're the family – aren't we? I mean, not really, but kind of. Right?" JD liked the idea of having a bunch of big brothers he could count on. It wasn't a feeling he'd ever known before, but he was quickly becoming comfortable with it. Setting aside in his mind the idea Chris probably wouldn't be keen on the notion of being seen as a father figure to this bunch, and refusing to even contemplate the image of one of them in the maternal spot, he liked this new family: Josiah as the spiritual voice to them, Nathan the caregiver, Vin offering quiet emotional support, Buck as the protective yet slightly crazy big brother. And Ezra. Where did he fit in? The black sheep of the family was the first image, and he quickly dismissed it. For all of his talk and actions, underneath it JD knew there was more there. Hell, he'd seen Ezra with children, at the village and here in town. Anyone who could make kids smile the way he did had to have more to him than met the eye. Besides, if ever there were natural bullshit detectors, it was kids. And they loved him. No, Ezra was another brother. Imparting words of wisdom, teaching him the ways of the world, and possessing enough spirit to keep them all off balance – just enough. Definitely part of the family. Maybe a bit more aloof, but family just the same, and he was damned if he was going to let it all end.

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"They were right, weren't they? They were all right."

He turned, startled by the since he hadn't heard JD's arrival. He had been far too focused on preparing Chaucer. Too busy reveling in his success about avoiding contact with any of the men by waiting until well into lunch time when they would all be occupied. Or so he thought. His arrogance had, once again, come back to bite him in the ass.

"I'm just going for-"

"Don't Ezra. Don't lie. Not now. Not about this. You're leaving, and you're doing in on Christmas Eve, and without even saying good-bye. How could you do that?"

Fine. If the kid didn't want to hear a lie then he would have to deal with the truth. "You are still young enough – inexperienced enough to be unaware of what the past can do to someone. There is only one chance a man has to avoid facing the consequences, and that is to keep running. Eventually, inexorably, he will lose ground and when that time comes, the worst thing that can happen is that others pay the price."

"You losing ground Ezra?"

"Staying in one location means you are not advancing, and if that is the case, then the inevitable must occur."

JD tried to stare him down with far more conviction than he was feeling. "When are you going to get it through your head that I don't – no – we don't care about the past? Do you think we don't all have stuff in the past?" Ezra smiled at him with evident skepticism. "OK, fine. I ain't been around enough to have a past. But the others do, and that doesn't bother me."

"Their sins have a far more noble grounding. Mine center on the selfish, the mercenary and the ignorant acts of a man who should – who did – know better. Forgiveness is neither valid nor warranted. If, or more accurately when, this history eventually is exposed to the full light of day, you **may** want to try, and knowing your infinite faith in your fellow man, you may even convince yourself you have succeeded in granting absolution. Others in our circle will not be able or willing to follow your lead. God knows I can't. And of greater import, you sure as hell won't trust me, or want to work with me again."

"Shouldn't we be allowed to decide that?"

"Not this time. I have enough on my conscience that will condemn me to the lowest levels of hell. Adding the possible consequences of my remaining here would serve only to make that eternity even bleaker – a fate I dare not consider."

Josiah's deep chuckle filled the stable. "Didn't think you believed in hell Ezra."

"Believe in it? My dear Mr. Sanchez, I have spent the better part of my life living in it." Today was definitely not going to plan. "I suppose you are here on the same mission as our young colleague."

It would have given the big man some comfort to be able to confirm that, but he knew he would fool no one. Like JD, he had had no difficulty in coming to the conclusion that brought him here. "No. Contrary to what you might believe, I have rarely been a proponent of battling for lost causes."

"Or lost souls?" Why, Ezra wondered, did he feel this was the appropriate time to goad the preacher?

"No such thing. Just temporarily displaced. I have no doubt you will find your path. I can only hope that some day it will lead you back here." He reached out, handing Ezra a wrapped bundle. "Extra blanket, some dried food. Another canteen. I figure some of this might come in handy. Consider it an early Christmas present."

The action earned him a dirty glare from JD. "What the hell are you helping him for?"

"Because hindering him would serve no purpose."

Ah, the ulterior motive that Ezra knew had to be there. "But helping me might? Make me reconsider the error of my ways? Really Mr. Sanchez, that is somewhat simplistic, don't you think?"

"Read into it what you will son. All I'm doing is the same as you – what I have to."

With all pretense gone, Ezra realised he would be a fool to turn down the offered items, so after just a slight hesitation he took the bundle and mounted up. Knowing it was expected of him, he forced himself to nod a farewell to the two men seeing him off before making his way to the stable entrance. He chose not to offer his customary salute for fear they might spot the small tremble in his hand.

All hopes that the worst of this was over ended when he had to quickly rein Chaucer to a stop in the doorway.

"This your idea of not leaving?" Chris didn't bother to try to keep the growl from his voice.

"There is correspondence for you in my room which imparts the all of the information you would need."

The growl did not abate. "Thought you were done with breaking promises."

"I did not slip away in the night. If you still insist upon interpreting this as a violation of my pledge, I must respond by questioning your decision to accept the word of honour from a man who has none."

After just a moment's pause, Chris took a step back to clear the way. "Suit yourself Ezra. Guess that is what you do best."

Resisting the urge to bolt while the opportunity presented itself, Ezra edged Chaucer forward slowly. It the others want to take a parting shot, literally or figuratively, he felt they had the right. No one spoke, although he was certain Vin had said more with one look than he ever could have expressed otherwise.

_Don't look back Ezra_. He kept repeating the mantra to himself. It was one he had been trained on since childhood. Whatever other choices you make, don't ever look back. The sentence echoed in his mind as he rode past the town limits.

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tbc


	4. Chapter 4

After two hours of riding Ezra was still mumbling to himself; still trying to rationalize what he was doing.

"They wonder why I am leaving." He derisive laugh was short and loud. "Astonishing, isn't it, that none of them ever bothered to ponder the more mystifying question – why had I stayed so long?"

Cursing himself for stirring that thought again, Ezra tried to move past it and focus on other matters, but the voice in his head continued to demand an answer to the question he'd heard taunting him since he left Four Corners.

Why had he ever stayed? Hell, for that matter, why had he even ridden out of the Seminole Village with these men? Or into it in the first place? It wasn't the promise of money. The offered payment was definitely not worth the risk. And even the possibility of gold was something he had known in his heart to be a remote chance at best. Still, remote was better than no chance at all. Deciding that the gold was a marginally acceptable answer for at least one motive, he sought to dismiss the remaining questions with no success.

Larabee might choose to believe it was his threat that had inspired the temporary loyalty when that first battle was resolved. It wasn't. Ezra knew the man would have neither reason nor desire to track him down had he decided to go his own way. So, why didn't he do just that? Seeking to find as shallow a response as he could, Ezra settled on curiosity. Travelling with this cadre of diverse characters could prove to be entertaining for a time, and he was always interested in gathering more material to draw on for future scams. One could never have to much inspiration.

Why he stayed beyond that was a simpler question to answer. Absolution, for at least one of his multitude of sins. Getting a pardon would reopen a region in which he could once again try his luck. Sufficient time had passed that most of his marks would have moved on, and with no legal summons awaiting him, he could have quite the time. Which again circled him back to the question – why didn't he leave? His pardon was earned, his slate cleaned (somewhat). There was no reason to hang around that tiny collection of people and building that dared to call itself a town.

One thought gnawed away at him, trying to break through the barrier he was determined to keep in place. He dismissed it out of hand every single time it poked a small hole through. He was not looking for a new beginning. He had no desire or need to turn his life around. That desire for something permanent that on occasion prodded at him was easily dismissed as a reaction to a particularly exhausting run of bad luck. Or a run from bad luck. He was a Standish, and amongst the many things that meant was that he was destined to be a rover all of his life. His type, their type, did not settle. Did not put down roots. And most importantly, did not do anything that might be considered respectable enough to bring shame to the family name.

Mother had been, as usual, right about that. He didn't fit in, and never would, with decent folk. He would be shunned, doubted and rejected. Why then hadn't those six decent men run him out of down? Why did they continue to not just accept his presence, but to work and socialize with him? Why did those men gather at the liveries for no other reason that to say their goodbyes?

Whatever the reason he had been tempted to stay for the past few months was irrelevant now. He had lived up to his tradition of burning bridges, and as far as he could see, there was no turning back. "Onward Chaucer, to the next thrilling chapter of our lives."

Not more than five minutes later a small misstep altered his plans. Chaucer reared back slightly after stepping into the gopher hole. A few steps were all it took before he came to a full stop, clearly favouring the front left leg. Ezra dismounted quickly, already seeking out the injury as he did. A moment later he was running his hand over the leg, hoping there had not been any damage to tendons or ligaments.

"My dear friend, it is not like you to be so careless. Clearly you were as preoccupied as am I, distracted by the events of the day." He poured water from the canteen onto a towel, wrapping it around what he believed to be the source of the injury.

"This does not make for an auspicious beginning to our next adventure. We are barely clear of the town." He looked around gazing toward what he had left behind. He would have been astonished to see the look of longing on his face if he had known it was there. "From this height, I have little doubt that the lights from the town will be visible. Had Josiah succeeded in hanging that atrocious bell in the tower, I am certain we would be able to hear the midnight peal ringing in Christmas."

He glanced warily at his horse. "If I didn't know better, I would think your actions were deliberate. Surely you cannot be that duplicitous." Chaucer turned his head. "My, my, my. And here I have always assumed I was the most mendacious member of this team."

His vague and illogical suspicions notwithstanding, he was unwilling ready to risk further injury. Ezra pulled his roll from where it was strapped to the saddle. "Do not for a moment presume that this changes any plans. We shall both take the opportunity for a brief respite. You, to allow time for me to determine if there is in fact any damage done, and me to recover from the lost slumber of last night. I assure you that we shall shortly move on from here. That is one promise I will keep."

Checking once more on the leg, and feeling no swelling or heat, Ezra gave Chaucer a critical glare before settling himself against a broad tree trunk. He took a moment to rest his gun under his hand, prepared for any unlikely but nevertheless possible confrontation, before settling back under a blanket and closing his eyes.

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"What happened to your plans to put up some kind of tree kid?" Buck didn't have to even look at the forlorn face and to know why but hoped to capitalize on his usually bombastic style to goad the young man into some kind of holiday activity. Damn Standish for picking today to leave.

"You ain't that stupid Buck. Close, but not that bad. You know full well there's no point in it."

"Seriously? Ezra was the reason you were doing this? And you can me stupid. Come on. At the very least you can help me put up some of this here mistletoe. Got to do my best to spread holiday cheer."

With a look of disgust, JD pushed back from the table, letting the chair fall as he stood quickly. "Spread your own damn cheer Buck. I ain't in the mood for this crap." He stormed out without looking back.

Looking around to see Chris silently nursing a beer with a deep scowl embedded on his face, Josiah tutted quietly. "I think our absent cohort would be somewhat astonished at the effect his departure has had."

"Selfish to the end." Buck sat heavily in his own seat, deciding to no one's surprise he would have another beer. "Henry?" He called over, pointing to his glass, and the bartender nodded his understanding.

Josiah had come to a different conclusion concerning Ezra's timing, although he doubted Buck was in the mood to hear it. "I would suggest that our questioning of him sped up his plans. Under ideal circumstances even Ezra would have preferred a few more days of planning over such an abrupt departure." He polished of his own beer as the bartender, who knew the men too well, sat two drinks down on the table. "I also think he is counting on all of us having exactly the reactions we are. The angrier we are at him, the less likely we are to regret his departure."

"Well if he figured I was going to saddle up and ride after him, he's in for one hell of a long wait."

"Still feel that way if I tell you there's a storm coming in?" Vin ambled up to the table, waving off the bartenders silent question. "Clouds in the distance, and a change in the air. I'm betting it's going to be a bad snow coming up fast."

Buck looked up, concern crossing his face. "Shit. Ezra wasn't expecting that. None of us were. He's gonna be in trouble."

Vin grinned. "Relax Buck. It's still clear as a bell out there. I just wanted to make sure you didn't mean what you were saying."

"Conniving little bastard – aren't you? Aiming to take over from Ezra on that score?"

That earned a solid laugh. "Like any of us could even hope to come close to that God given gift he has."

"Speaking of clear as a bell, I can use a few strong backs and helping hands."

Quickly deducing what was coming, Buck groaned at the thought of the manipulation the feat would require. "Now Josiah, you can't be telling us you aim to try to get that bell into the tower today?"

"Made myself a promise that it would ring in Christmas, and I'd kind of like to keep that."

"Sure that you're not trying to call your wandering sheep back home?"

"No Vin, I have no such delusions. But I do like to think he might hear it in some way and know that we are still with him. And that, no matter how much he denies it, or how much any of you do, he might feel that he still belongs here."

Rolling his eyes, knowing that any spoken criticism would be rebuffed, Buck gulped down the rest of his beer. "Well hell, if we're going to be stupid about something, and this does seem to be my day for it, we might as well work on the damned bell."

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Ezra's eyes flew open with a start, hand clenching around his pistol. It was only when he realized that the nudging he had been feeling came from Chaucer and not a more nefarious source that he was able to get his breathing slowed to a manageable rate.

"Startling an armed man is never a wise move Chaucer. You truly seem to have determined that you are no longer bound by the rules you have been taught." A dismissive snort was the only response.

Ezra leaned back again, memories of the dreams he'd been having poking into his thoughts. Not surprisingly, they had centred around the town, and the past few months there. Flashes of events he would have preferred to forget. Near the top was the mortifying experience with that dress, but there were innumerable other moments as well. Accusations about his character, or lack of same. The repeated looks of disapproval. All of those were part of the wave that overtook him.

As he calmed himself, different recollections began to surface as well. A casual wink at a shared jest. A hand of support after a fight. Toasts to victories, small and large. Laughter blended with a touch of disbelief at the card table as he laid down yet another winning hand. Concerns voiced when injuries occurred, and help coming from unexpected sources. And as difficult as it was for him to accept it, he was beginning to feel those memories outnumbered, and outweighed, the others. He closed his eyes as another reality slammed into him. He had just walked away from the first – the only – time in his life that he had been a part of something. It may not have been the smoothest piece of machinery ever created, but the pieces, diverse as they were, seemed somehow to work well together.

"You really are an unbelievably short-sighted and stupid man Ezra Standish." It had to be his imagination, but he was certain the faint sound of a clanging bell was echoing in the hills, and he knew where it must be coming from.

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"Can't believe you guys got that thing up there." Chris looked up at the church tower, taking a step back as he had second thoughts on how secure such a speedy job may well be.

"It was a team effort." JD grinned, swallowing the urge to amend the comment. "I kind of owed Buck an apology, and he made me earn it."

"Well," Chris patted the young man on the back, understanding his feelings, "I'd say you definitely did."

Josiah had been beyond pleased at the success of their efforts. "Sounded good when we tested it earlier."

The town was caught by surprise by the loud clanging in the late afternoon, most people turning out in the street to see what they could only think of as a miracle. It gave Josiah the moment he needed to remind everyone they were all invited to the evening service. "Having it early enough that the youngsters can be sound asleep in their beds before Santa Clause arrives."

The result was a respectable, although not spectacular turn out. Good enough for an early effort at drawing folks into the church. "Nice service Josiah."

"Yes Chris. I must admit it was gratifying to see how many people managed to stay awake throughout."

Nathan laughed. "Get the windows and roof fixed so folks aren't so cold, you might have a different outcome."

The casual walk across town came to an abrupt end when Vin, who had been in the lead stopped. "Chris, I thought the saloon was closed up for the night." They all looked ahead, seeing a soft light shining through a window. The doors were closed, but there was no doubt someone was inside.

"Could be Henry just cleaning up in there." JDs voice reflected the fact he didn't believe what he was saying.

Neither did the others. "He was at the service and headed back to the boarding house." Buck drew his weapon as he approached the building, the others quickly following his lead. Chris waved Josiah to go around to the back and then signalled Nathan to stay behind for back-up. It was always his preferred strategy to keep the healer as much out of harm's way as possible, given the disturbing frequency with which his services were needed.

Chris looked cautiously through the window. He could make out a shadowy figure in the corner, seated at the back table. There wasn't enough light for him to see much more from this angle and he resigned himself to the fact they'd have to go in blind. This was not the Christmas Eve he had envisioned, but then again, he couldn't say he was shocked by the turn of events either. Counting down with his fingers he threw the door open at three and took the few steps needed to line him up with the table. His intended shout of warning froze in his throat as the man at the table looked up at the stunned faces staring back at him.

"My apologies for not attending your services Mr. Sanchez, but I feared my late arrival might disrupt the occasion." He placed the deck of cards he'd been shuffling back on the table. "Can I interest anyone in a game of chance?" He hoped his face didn't reflect the fear he was feeling over the possible answer.

It was all JD could do to hold himself back, but they all stood in place, waiting for Chris's reaction. Josiah's arrival from the back distracted them for only a second before the tableau of silence resumed. The ticking of the clock echoed as the only sound in the room.

"You here to stay Ezra?"

"I think perhaps that decision rests in large part in your hands."

Five sets of eyes shifted their attention to Chris. When there was no immediate response, the prodding began.

"'tis the season, cowboy."

"Told you not to call me that Buck."

Following up on the theme of his earlier sermon, Josiah added his thoughts. "Christmas is a time for forgiveness Chris."

"So I hear."

"You know the saying Pard. Peace on earth -".

Holding up his hand, Chris interrupted Vin and stopped any other comments that were coming. His focus hadn't shifted from Ezra throughout the discussion and he was forced to admit a grudging respect for the unwavering calmness the man was exhibiting.

"Well Mr. Larabee. Is there a semblance veracity in the aphorism? Goodwill to ALL men?"

The eternity was really only about 30 seconds long before Chris's expression shifted slowly to one of bemused satisfaction. The chair scraped across the floor as he pulled it out and took his seat. "Deal me in."

They all moved to the table, fighting the urge to raise the subject foremost in their minds. There could be discussions on what had happened later.

Ezra acknowledged each man with a quick nod of his head. Vin wondered if he was the only one to notice the tension in the gambler's eyes as he watched as it lessen with each greeting.

Buck's patience was, as might be expected, the first to wear down. Unable to control himself, he had to open the comments. "Gotta say Ezra, you're not the man in red I was expecting to see tonight." If he'd been close enough JD would have kicked him, again.

A flicker passed over Ezra's face before he squelched his reaction. "I dare say with your record Mr. Wilmington, I wouldn't have imagined it was **Mr**. Claus whose company you were anticipating. However if he were to appear, there is no doubt you would be amply supplied with coal for some time to come."

Buck stared back, jaw dropping. The soft snort from Chris, followed by a chortle from Josiah and finally a much louder guffaw from JD served as the catalysts to break the tension. The casual relaxation of friends settled over the table. Nathan picked up the deck of cards and began shuffling, smiling as he did. As the others began joking amongst themselves, Chris leaned ever so slightly closer and spoke quietly out of the corner of his mouth "Merry Christmas Ezra. Welcome home."

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The End


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